gaborone #2

a middle-aged mother wipes her brow.fingers on necklaceon beadsof sweat anxiously waitingfor a visa to a perpetually air-conditionedsomewhere in the USthey fire entrance permits in a kilnand concoct embassies out of ashscattering it on the globeas if zeus lit thunder into their hands hot shock likeiron

irony –will you be humorous or emphatic today?america night live!mama is catching this episode whether she likes it or noton the TV screens atop our headsblack boys in front of her bloomout their coloron home’s village soils in the summer and their potatoskins,on green amerrrrican visa receiptson a country culled of weeds,on an embassy television screen,on smoke boiled out the kettle steamof a gun barrel,on a hard slab ofamerrrican concrete so

iron-y hot.mama’s son smiles down at herfrom abovelike a hope like a dream likea loss like a god likea TV screen peddling air-conditioned scenesfor a land sweatier,leaking faucets of ash,than this little embassy –

ironythe giant elephantin the room, constructed from its ownwhite tusks at the sceneof mama’s departurefrom sir seretse khama airportboarding the first of the turbulent planesto the land of the free